The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

essence of how many lives? Because the science is ancient, you—a
doctor,
with no subtlety, no sense of energy’s nuance, of elemental concepts—reject it out of hand, in ignorance. You who have never sought the chemical substance of desire, of devotion, of fear, of
dreams
—never located the formulaic roots of art and religion, the power to remake in flesh myths most sacred and profane!”
    The Comte stood over Svenson, his mouth a grimace, as if he were angry for having spoken so intimately to such a person. He cleared his throat and went on, his words returned to their customary coldness.
    “You asked why I waited to expose you. You will have overheard certain disagreements amongst my allies—questions for which I would have answers…without necessarily sharing them. You may speak willingly, or with the aid of Angelique—but speak to me you will.”
    “I don’t know anything,” spat Svenson. “I was at Tarr Manor—I am outside your Harschmort intrigues—”
    The Comte ignored him, idly fingering the knobs on his metal implement as it lay next to Lydia’s pale leg.
    “When we spoke in my greenhouse, your Prince had been taken from you. At that time neither you nor I knew how or by whom.”
    “It was the Contessa,” said Svenson, “in the airship—”
    “Yes, I
know
. I want to know
why
.”
    “Surely she gave you an explanation!”
    “Perhaps she did…perhaps not…”
    “The falling-out of thieves,” sneered the Doctor. “And the two of you seemed such
particular
friends—”
    The Prince stepped forward and boxed Svenson’s ear.
    “You will not speak so to your betters!” he announced, as if he were making polite conversation, then snorted with satisfaction. Svenson looked up at the Prince, his face hot with scorn, but his words were still for the Comte.
    “I cannot know, of course—I merely, as you say,
deduce
. The Prince was taken mere hours after I had rescued him from the Institute. You—and others—were not told. Obviously she wanted the Prince for her own ends. What is the Prince to your plans? A dupe, a pawn, a void in the seat of power—”
    “Why, you damned ungrateful rogue!” cried the Prince. “The
audacity
!”
    “To some this might seem obvious,” said the Comte, impatiently.
    “Then I should think the answer obvious as well,” scoffed Svenson. “Everyone undergoing the Process is instilled with a control-phrase, are they not? Quite by accident the Prince was taken by me before any particular commands could be given to him—the Contessa, knowing that, and knowing the Prince’s character would predispose everyone to think of him as an imbecile, seized the opportunity to instill within his mind commands of her own, to be invoked at the proper time against her putative allies—something unexpected, such as, let us say, pushing you out of an airship. Of course, when asked, the Prince will remember none of it.”
    The Comte was silent. Miss Temple was amazed at the Doctor’s presence of mind.
    “As I say…fairly obvious,” sniffed Svenson.
    “Perhaps…it is your own fabrication…yet credible enough that I must waste time scouring the memory of the Prince. But before that, Doctor—for I think you are lying—I will first scour
you
. Angelique?”

    Svenson leapt to his feet with a cry, but the cry was cut to a savage choking bark as Angelique’s mind penetrated his. Chang burst forth from the stairwell, running forward, Miss Temple right behind him. Svenson was on his knees holding his face, the Prince above him, raising a boot to kick the Doctor’s head. To the side stood Angelique. The Prince looked up at them with a confused resentment at being interrupted. The Comte wrenched his attention from Svenson’s mind with a roar. Angelique turned, a little too slowly, and Miss Temple raised the revolver. She was perhaps ten feet distant when she pulled the trigger.
    The shot smashed into the glass woman’s outstretched arm at the elbow, shearing through with a spray of bright shards and dropping the forearm and hand to the floor, where they shattered in a plume of indigo smoke. Miss Temple saw Angelique’s mouth open wide but heard the scream within her mind, indiscriminately flaying the thoughts of every person in the room. Miss Temple fell to her knees, tears in her eyes, and fired again. The bullet pierced the cuirass of Angelique’s torso, starring the surface. Miss Temple kept squeezing the trigger, each hole driving the cracks deeper, lancing